A Day So Famous, It's Infamous

So yesterday was my last day at my job. I had planned on working one shift yesterday and then a shift tonight, but instead decided to work a double yesterday and get tonight off. This worked out much better, 'cause had I only worked last night, I would have walked with a mere 25 dollars. But as fate had it, I did very well on the lunch shift I picked up for a coworker of mine. In fact, I did well enough that I said to myself right at the end of my first shift, "Hey, no matter what happens, no matter how shitty tonight's tips are, at least the morning rocked."

Never issue a statement like that into the universe. God will see to it that your tips are the shittiest they can be. And perhaps more.

I'll elaborate.

So my second shift yesterday was a patio shift. And as it was a nice sunny day in SLC (a high of 94 degrees, if I'm not mistaken), the patio remained nearly empty for the first two hours in my shift. In fact, when its hot outside, the only people who choose sit out there are either freaks or Europeans. I attribute this phenomenon to the fact that Euros are much more accustomed to eating outside in the heat, and not as lazily dependent on air conditioning like most Americans. And as for the freaks, well, this brings us to my most memorable table of the evening.

Around 730 pm the hosts sat a solitary gentleman at a table on the patio. And from the moment I approached him, I could sense that something was off. He was about my same age (mid twenties), and while he wasn't necessarily "dirty", his clothes and hygiene were a little worse for wear. And appearance aside, he was just...odd. He almost seemed to move in slow motion. His words came out slow, and felt like they required tremendous effort on his part, as if they were on a time delay in his brain.

He ordered a beer. I could have just got it for him, but I had a feeling I should ask for I.D. (an instinct which would later prove useful ). He responded with a lethargy that would make a sloth reach for a pillow. "Oh man, I think I might have it. Let me see." He then proceeded to empty the entire contents of his pockets before my eyes. He littered the tabletop with papers and other randomness for 30 seconds before finding something useful: His birth certificate.

What kind of person, you may ask, carries around his birth certificate in his pants on a daily basis? The kind of person who would captivate our entire restaurant staff for the next hour and a half.

I brought this man his beer and put his food order into the computer. I then talked to the hosts and another server about the birth certificate and how strange it was. We laughed, not yet sensing how portentous that simple transaction really was.

About the time I brought his food out, I received another table on the patio. Two beautiful girls who sat at a table across and a bit behind him. This positioning, however, only made it that much more obvious as he began to stare them down for the next 40 minutes. He was so conspicuous in his leering, in fact, that the hosts, servers and bussers all began to point him out to each other in typical server-voyeur fashion. "Hey, check out the creepo on the patio!" And while we all agreed this was a bit disturbing, we still failed to grasp the full scope of the unfolding event.

About this time, as I continued to get a weird feeling from this guy, I decided to mention it to my manager. I told her how odd he was, and that we might want to keep an eye on him, lest he should attempt to "dine'n'dash" (run off w/out paying the bill).

A couple minutes later, as more and more of my coworkers peeked out the windows to see this man stare lecherously at the girls sitting across from him, one of our bussers had a realization: he'd seen this guy before! Unbelievably, he had seen him the day before eating at a restaurant right next door to us in the outdoor mall where we're located. Or more accurately, he recognized him because he had seen him running from the restaurant and being chased by a server for skipping out on the bill!

A person would have to be either incredibly audacious or incredibly stupid to do what this man was doing. And this man did not strike me as the audacious type.

From here, our manager quickly ran over to the Applebees to consult with their staff and determine if this fellow was indeed the perpetrator our busser suspected him to be. And sure enough, they all quickly confirmed that he was the same guy. They called the mall security who in turn called the real SLC police. And instead of apprehending the guy immediately, they decided to wait and see if he was going to attempt the same crime at our restaurant too.

Well, as the prescence of the popo became increasingly conspicuous over the next few minutes, I observed our "special guest" became palpably more nervous with every bite of his BLT pizza. Everytime I passed and asked him how he was doing I could see beads of sweat now streaming down his brow (and not just cause it was hot out there). He ate as slowly as he possibly could, trying to delay the inevitable embarrasment that awaited him.

As he finished his food, I went take his plate away, and right as I was poised to drop his check and "let the games begin", I mechanically asked him what I asked of all guests in the restaurant, "Would you like to look at our dessert menu?" Salvation. He found another way to stave off his fate for a few minutes. "Yeah", he replied nervously. I brought it out to him and recommended the apple crisp a la mode. "Ok, I'll take that", he said. Okay, buddy. Why not.

By now, all of my coworkers were now tuned into the dramatic proceedings. Two fine SLC policemen even came inside the restaurant to talk to our manager. They told her to call if he attempted to flea without paying, at which point they would take him into custody, but then they had to leave and attend to another call.

As everyone around me waited for the impending trainwreck of this man's evening, something happened inside me: I actually felt bad for him. I remembered that I had seen another item among his belongings when he rifled through his pockets earlier. I had seen a small yellow card that had the words "BED CARD" printed on it. At that moment I realized he was probably staying in a shelter somewhere nearby. I also remembered that I had seen a $20 bill among his things.

As I felt the net tightening around this man's life, I decided to be audacious myself. As I placed his dessert in front of him, I also handed him the check. "Would you like to take care of that right now?" I asked politely. "Uhh, in a minute," he muttered. I turned to walk away, but hesitated. And then I just went for it.

I turned back and knelt down next to the table. "Look, man. Here's the thing. People have recognized you. We all know that you ate at Applebees last night and ran off without paying. They've called security, and now there are cops waiting around the corner. And if you don't pay tonight, they're going to arrest you." I was looking him straight in the eye. His gaze offered not an ounce of denial. "Man, I don't think you wanna go to jail. That's gonna cost you more money for bail, its gonna cause a lot more problems. I know times are hard, but...I strongly suggest you pay the bill."

At this point, I felt like the guy's dad, telling him to go back into the store and pay for a candy-bar he had stolen (something our parents made my brother and I do after defly pocketing a package of Rolos from the supermarket when we were young). "How much is it?" he now asked meekly. It was $23.75. "Look, man. I know you've got the twenty, if you can just give me that, we'll call it cool. I'll cover the rest." I paused. "I don't think you wanna go to jail."

"Okay." Once again, he seemed to move in slow motion as he dug through his pockets attempting the locate the bill that would keep him from jail. After what felt like an hour, but was probably only 3o seconds, he finally located the $20. He gave it to me, and I then said, "Thanks, man. enjoy your dessert, and have a good night."

Right after I walked inside, however, he took off immediately, not even touching his dessert. I entered the restaurant to a dozen confused faces. "WHAT HAPPENED?! DID HE PAY? THERE HE GOES! HE'S RUNNING!" I told everyone what had happened. Some were still confused, and those who understood had mixed feelings. You see, as far as servers are concerned, people who don't tip (let alone don't pay) have a special place in hell reserved for them right inbetween adulterers and people who talk on their cell phones during movies. So for me to let this guy get off, it was not what they expected.

But you know what, I didn't care. I felt good. I didn't want to see anybody go to jail on my account. Not when I could help him out. It was my last day, and I felt good.

And then someone called out, "LOOK, THEY'RE ARRESTING HIM!" We looked out the front windows and saw that sure enough, the cops were taking him into custody. And close by stood the staff from Applebees pointing at him and nodding. I learned a couple minutes later that Applebees was indeed pressing charges against him.

My first thought was, "Aww, man. He's getting arrested anyway, and here I took his last $20."

Good deeds. Bah.

Not that I disagree with him being arrested. I think we need a system of law and order. And people need to learn to live within that system if they want to live a happy life. But I still feel bad for those who struggle.



...But then again, does any of this really matter?